Were Is Fangtasia
by LaedieDuske
Summary: When a strange woman stumbles onto Eric's property and collapses he takes her in, but is it compassion or self-preservation? Eric with miscellaneous other residents.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own True Blood, Southern Vampire Mysteries, Eric or any of the other inhabitants and visitors to Bon Temps, though if someone were to offer me a thousand year old Viking, I've a hunch my answer would be "yes please with a cherry on top".**

Her body pushed beyond its limits, her mind shattered by exhaustion and agony, she ran as if the end of the world were on her trail. Because it was. If he caught her, he would kill her. But not until after he had nursed her back to health so he could take his time with the killing.

She smelled the people before she saw the lights. As fast as she was running, there was still almost nobody there by the time she got there. This was a good thing, she simply wanted a place to hide where he might not find her right away. If she could hide near to these creatures, he might not sense her as quickly. She would need a secure place, though, because she did not want them to find her either.

Either way, her life would be forfeit.

She saw the neon sign and her pain-fogged brain realized she was already too close. She tried to change course, to skirt the edges of the pavement but that decision came too late as well. Her abused legs betrayed her, buckling and dumping her face-down onto the tar where she slid to a halt and lay unmoving.

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Eric Northman, owner and proprietor of Fangtasia, was headed to his Corvette after a long night suffering the aural assault of modern-day club "music". A thousand years is a long time to perfect the art of tuning things out, but he was still weary and ready to be home enjoying a warm snifter of Type AB+.

He heard her coming before she even knew where she was headed. He froze, perfectly motionless beside his car. He was nearly invisible in the dimness of his parking spot but it did not matter, she could not see where she was going anyway.

Puzzled, he watched her stampede almost into the parking lot moving at a speed no human could ever reach. In the merest fraction of a second he knew three things.

One: She was not a vampire.

Two: She was desperately hurt.

Three: He knew what had hurt her by the smell preceding her and was immediately alert to the possibility that it could be in his territory.

As Sheriff of Area Five, it was his duty and responsibility to learn if that were the case or not and, if so, to take care of the situation before it _became_ a situation.

That fraction of a second was all it took for her ill-fated decision to change course, however, and by the time he reached her she was most decidedly unconscious. With a thought to the warm snifter and a weary sigh, he reached down and carefully rolled her over onto her back.

She was covered in so much blood it was difficult to tell how badly or from where she was bleeding, or even if it was all hers. He had taken her for a shapeshifter when she had sped onto his property, but a closer view of the blood let him know that was decidedly not the case. The red neon Fangtasia sign had reflected off everything about her for a moment before she went down, and that was where the confusion sprang from. As he knelt between her and the building to gently cradle her body to him he registered the shock and tried to shake it off as he hurried her inside.

Her blood was purple.

Some crazy stroke of providence had dropped her there just after the last customers of the evening had left. The only ones inside were Pam, Eric's second-in-command, Chow, a trusted Fangtasia bartender, and the door-vamp who averted his eyes when Eric ordered him to.

He summoned Pam to his office with a flick of his mind. She arrived just as he was laying his bleeding bundle down on the couch in his office.

"_What_ is _that_?" Pam asked, wrinkling her nose in distaste.

"That, my dear, is either a blessing or a curse. However, if you do not go call Dr. Ludwig to get here immediately, it will be a corpse."

"Shall I offer her the usual fee?"

"Make it a little more, since our problem is a little more...exotic...this time." He was choosing his words very carefully in case his office had been bugged again. He hated the thought of having to take care of this without the certain knowledge of secrecy, but he could think of no other place he could bring her that would be as comfortable as the couch she was currently lying motionless on. Besides, he admitted to himself grudgingly, he did not really want to move her again.

She whimpered and began to twitch slightly. An idea began to take shape in his mind.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own True Blood, Southern Vampire Mysteries, Eric or any of the other inhabitants and visitors to Bon Temps. I would like to "borrow" Eric sometime though – I will return him ALMOST unrumpled. :-)**

**WARNING: I have taken some liberties with the story-line, blending in some aspects of my own imagination and wishful thinking for the next couple seasons if Mr. Ball stops hating Eric fans. IF YOU ARE A BILL/SOOKIE FANATIC, MAY BE BEST IF YOU STOP READING NOW! I'm serious. You have been warned.**

**This chapter is a little shorter simply because my life (and 3 other short stories plus a book I am working on) have gotten in the way. I apologize and will do my best not to let it happen again.**

Eric dialed Sookie's number from memory. She answered on the third ring.

'Ms. Stackhouse.'

'Eric, I'm tired, what's going on?'

'So good to hear your voice too lover.'

'I'm sorry, just been a long night, what's going on?' she asked again.

'I have someone here at the club, badly injured. I -'

'Did you have an 'accident'?'

'No, it's -'

'Is it someone I know?'

'No, I -'

'So call a doctor Eric, what do you need me for?'

'If you would let me finish a sentence,you would probably know by now, wouldn't you?' Irritation finally warmed his usually unflappable tone.

'Sorry.'

He took a breath, started again, 'I apologize for snapping, I am tired as well. The doctor has already been called, but she is critically wounded and I am not sure she's going to come around.'

'Oh Eric, I'm sorry. Is it a friend of yours?'

It warmed his thousand-year-dead heart to hear the concern for him in her voice. 'No my lover, not a friend of mine, but I suspect I know what hurt her so badly and I need to know for certain. If it is what I think it is, many lives will be lost if I do not find out immediately.'

'What can I do?'

'I know it is late and you have already said you are tired. If I offered you a comfy bed afterwards, would you please come and listen in to the dreams she is clearly having about what happened?'

She did not miss the thinly veiled offer to share his bed, he could hear the smile in her voice when she answered, 'I'll be there soon.'

He closed his phone, immediately at odds with himself. He had told her the truth, as far as what he had told her. But he had not told her the whole truth. He needed to know if there were more of her kind out there, looking for her as well. If he had said that, though, his inquisitive sweetie would have wanted to know what her kind _was_. He could not put Sookie in that kind of danger.

Truth was also that the girl (woman, he corrected himself after closer inspection) was an utter anomaly. Her kind was supposed to have died out long before. They sure as hell had not been hiding in Louisiana this entire time, so where did she come from?

And where was Pam? He thought about her and almost smiled when he felt her impatience which was a direct result of sensing _his_ impatience. Not for the first time, he wondered what he would have done without her companionship for so many years. She came through the door laden with thick towels from behind the bar. Eric looked at them for a moment, puzzled, and then shook himself as he realized his stupidity. He could have kicked himself right then, but instead put the brief energy spurt to good use.

He grabbed a towel from Pam and began to inspect his "guest" for wounds, something he should have been doing as soon as he laid her on the couch but he just was too tired to think clearly. He had been up for two solid days now, handling arbitration for a human/vampire dispute in his area. The humans in question had been put off by the Bleeds, but not put off enough to want to do any problem-solving after dark. _Superstitious fools_ he thought darkly to himself.

Some people suffered under the misconception that vampires did not get tired. Some people refused to give vampires any human-like attributes out of fear or ignorance, and some people were just uneducated. Vampires could definitely tire, it just tended to take them longer. They could also love, hate, be jealous, feel pity and remorse despite what those idiots at that ridiculous church would have people believe. One misconception they gladly let stand, though is the idea that vampires cannot feel pain. In truth, perhaps because of their incredibly heightened senses, they feel pain more severely than nearly any creature anywhere. People take the vampire's heightened senses in stride, better vision, better hearing, better smell, but what they forget is that touch is a sense as well.

Eric shook his head and sighed, dragging his mind back to the unpleasant task at hand. Pam looked over his shoulder in anticipation as he grasped the bottom of the woman's shirt and gently peeled it away from all the blood and grime that was sticking it firmly to her abdomen. It stuck to the edge of a deep gash that ran the entire width of her stomach just below the bellybutton. As he pulled the woman shuddered and let out a soft cry, but did not wake. Eric flinched despite himself, the wound was severe. He continued to pull on the shirt and revealed two more gashes above that one, one laid her ribs bare and he could see the bone clearly through the gap. The other was between the two and seemed to be the worst of the three, he could clearly see parts of her anatomy that were never meant to see the outside world. He wondered briefly if she would live long enough for either the doctor or Sookie to arrive. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own True Blood, Southern Vampire Mysteries, Eric or any of the other inhabitants and visitors to Bon Temps. They could make a mint renting Eric out, though.**

**WARNING: I have taken some liberties with the story-line, blending in some aspects of my own imagination and wishful thinking for the next couple seasons if Mr. Ball stops hating Eric fans. IF YOU ARE A BILL/SOOKIE FANATIC, MAY BE BEST IF YOU STOP READING NOW! I'm serious. You have been warned. Again.**

**A/N I apologize both for the short update, and for the delay. I have been ill, though still doing my best to muddle through and post what I can. Thank you for your patience, for your feedback, and for reading!**

Eric was relieved and annoyed when Sookie arrived before the doctor did. Relieved because he preferred Sookie to have uninterrupted access to the young woman, preferably without distractions. He was annoyed, however, with the doctor's tardiness. He wondered, not for the first time, if the mystery woman was going to bleed out on his $4,000 couch. He sighed as Sookie was shown into his office.

He had tried to cover the woman to stave off shock while keeping his hands underneath the blanket holding steady pressure on her awful wounds. The purple blood was sort of a dead giveaway that there was something seriously strange about this woman. There was not much he could do about that, though, as it seeped through the blanket and trickled down the front of the couch.

At the first touch, she had gasped in pain, but then she grew very still. He thought it may be too late for either the doctor or Sookie to be much help. A few moments later she eased his mind by resuming her twitching.

Sookie took in the horror show before her, frozen just inside the door. Eric thought for one crazy second that she was going to turn around and walk right back out.

"Hello lover." He tried to smile at her, though he knew she could see right through it. He was just too tired to pull it off.

"Oh lord. Eric you look awful!"

"Thank you. And you look like an angel dropped to Earth," he teased.

She looked down at her Merlotte's uniform and smirked. "I may be coated in grease and beer, but at least I don't look like something the cat wouldn't even drag in." With that she closed the distance between them and kissed him softly then settled into the chair beside him.

"As much as I am enjoying this, I am afraid we haven't much time."

Sookie looked at the blood that had trickled in several small lines down the front of the couch.

"You will explain all this when we are done?" The look in her eyes made it less of a question, more of a condition.

He wanted to be irritated but could not summon the fire. He nodded wearily.

She reached out and ran her fingers through his blonde hair, an affectionate half-smile on her face.

She closed her eyes and focused in on the only one nearby whose thoughts she could hear.

"Images," she said after a moment, "It's not thoughts, it's all images and feelings." She opened her eyes again and to Eric they looked a little too wide. "She's a _werewolf_?" Her voice squeaked on the last word.

Guilt prickled through him. Too late he considered the possibility that he should have warned her, should have guessed she would be nervous. Okay, maybe 'nervous' was an understatement.

"Not exactly," he sighed, "She is a _Were _but that is all I can say for now. I will tell you what I can when we are finished. Please." The last word carried all the urgency of the situation and was not lost on Sookie.

She closed her eyes again.

"She is lying on a floor...looks like maybe a hearth of some sort...she is hurt already...I can't tell how bad but I think bad." Her words came in a broken staccato, the images from the unconscious woman needing translating to make any sense, and sometimes the order of the images seemed slightly off. "She is afraid." Sookie and the woman flinched simultaneously. "No, she's terrified...he is coming back...going to hurt her, or worse...he's getting closer, but she can see the back door." Her voice was steadily rising in pitch. "She's dragging herself towards the door, but he's so close. So close she can feel it, she just keeps seeing him grabbing her over and over in her head."

"Sookie, can you see him? Does she look at him?" He tried to keep his voice even, but he thought of what it actually might be and it gave him a chill down his spine.

Eric started to reach his hand out to comfort her, then remembered the blood on his hands. Instead, he hooked his foot around the leg of the chair he was sitting on and dragged it closer while keeping his hands where they needed to be. He sat down close enough that one of his long legs was nudged up against Sookie's thigh. He need not have bothered.

Sookie took a few gulping breaths, bordering on hyperventilating. As Eric was about to speak to her, drag her out of whatever images she was currently locked into, she shot up out of her chair.

"Oh my God Eric, what the hell is that thing?" she practically shrieked, as the woman on the couch began to struggle against his hands.

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**A/N So yes, the "Were" in "Were Is Fangtasia" is not a typo, it is representative of the mystery woman. If you figured that out already, gold star for you!**


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